Yes, I'm well aware "Lisybabe" makes me sound like a teenage girl. But I was when I chose the handle and it kinda stuck.

24 December 2003

I am officially a victim of crime.

Yesterday I went to the recording of It's Been A Bad Week with two friends, and then down the pub afterwards.

Someone managed to steal K's bag from under our table, despite the fact that we never left it unattended at all. My cashcard was in it, thus, not only is she I victim of a crime, I am too.

I don't feel violated, or even inconvenienced by it. But I think my new title "crime victim" warrants me some sympathy, just for the sake of it. I do however find a tremendous irony in the title of the radio show we'd just come from.

Despite the nice visit to Charing Cross police station, yesterday was a fun afternoon. Much alcohol was consumed, yet I have a ridiculously high alcohol tolerance so remained very sober. Meh.

Christmas is approaching too quickly. I've only just written the cards I need to post, and then realised I didn't have enough stamps. Oh well. Anyone who knows me should expect to receive a Christmas card from me sometime around new year.

I'm off to Clacton On Sea, which is apparently the sprout capital of England. This is possibly the last time I'll write anything this year as I'm volunteering at one of the Crisis shelters as soon as I get back for 3 days, and if it's anything like last year, I won't have the energy to switch on my computer between shifts.

22 December 2003

I saw a news story today on The Guardian's website which was quite sad, because somebody died. But I couldn't help but find the irony entertaining:

The driver of a gritting lorry died today when his vehicle overturned in icy conditions, as snow hit north and east Britain.

Clearly his gritting lorry wasn't very efficient. You'd think they'd also spray some grit out the front, to pave the way for the lorry, wouldn't you?

The most exciting thing to happen to me today was being told I'm actually crazy.

It turns out that I'm not deaf, I'm just mad. Apparently.

The reason I can't understand anything when there's any background noise, and I can't understand a word anyone says to me if I hold a phone to my left ear is just because I'm crazy. There's nothing wrong with my ears. I just have perceived hearing loss.

They're referring me to a therapist to teach me to hear. I was smirking as I was told this.

I now kinda wish I hadn't mentioned anything to my GP. Flippantly being able to say in conversation "sorry, I didn't catch that, I'm a bit deaf" is so much easier to say than "I'm sorry, could you say that again? You see I'm nuts and it means that I think I'm deaf and I'm waiting to be taught how to hear"

Still, I shouldn't be too hard on myself. Crazy people are everywhere. One came into work today. He was looking for a gay bar, and seemed surprised to find a charity.

"I was looking for somewhere more sleazy"

"I'm sorry sir, this is a charity"

He didn't seem to believe that we didn't have some basement dungeon.

But it has given me an idea for a new organisation. I want to rob from the rich, and give to the perverted.

21 December 2003

I seem to have a bit of a Leslie Ash thing going on (I had my bottom lip pierced on Thursday). It is definitely not attractive. Photo's that I promised to people can wait till my lip has reduced to at least Sharleen Spiteri sized. I may even post one here.

Last night the power went out twice. Only for about a second each time, but I still ended up putting my torch in my pocket so I could find my way back to my bedroom without tripping over anything if the need arose (hey, I managed to walk into an oversized bottle of Ribena and kick that flying with the lights still on).

We had a hailstorm. I could hear scratching outside and went to investigate. I picked up the cat and brought him with me because I figured that if we had an intruder I could throw the cat at him and the claws would, well, probably aggravate them and make them kill me, but it was a reassuring thought that I could use the cat as a weapon. Except, if there was an intruder the only person he would of clawed would be me in a desperate attempt to not be let go of.

But, yes, hailstorm. I don't like them, they set off car alarms. And in a neighbourhood like mine, it ends up sounding slightly choral. It sounded a bit like a street rave.

I don't know why. I already have a Livejournal but that's where I write wifflings about my daily mundaneness. Here I'll post my wonderfully witty worldy observations. Or I'll write that I spotted someone paddling in the pond at the top of Hampstead Heath anyway.